December 20, 2007 (partial journal entry--Chartres cathedral) Emmaline, Catherine, and I took the train to Chartres today, while the other three went to Disneyland. It was relaxing to be on our own, just the four of us, and to get out of Paris and see some of the countryside: open countryside, low rolling hills, big unfenced fields, very different from the cramped pastures and hedges of Northern Ireland. Chartres cathedral was beautiful, basking in the winter sunshine. We spent an hour or so wandering around inside it, admiring especially the intricate honeycombed sculptures around the choir stalls, with scenes from Christ's life. We looked into a couple of little bookstores near the cathedral, then walked around outside the cathedral. On the south portal, I found the four statues familiar to me from Gothic history books, particularly the two of the knight and the monk, some of my favorites for their personal detail and simple serenity. I stopped and took pictures, delighted to have found 'my' statues.
We walked on around the cathedral after awhile. At the back we found a garden with a parapet, and then a steep fall, and beyond that a beautiful view of the city of Chartres itself: a fairly large town, it seemed, with some tall buildings and big cranes, a tangle of houses rosy in the slanting afternoon light. We walked around under a series of stone arches, over to the north doorway, where we goofed around, taking pictures of each other. Some workmen were unloading supplies at the side door. One of them came up to us and started to talk to Emmaline. He asked her (apparently) where we were from in America (!), and she said, 'Oklahoma,' the first thing that came to her head, so he started to sing a song about Oklahoma in French, grinning and looking at the four of us, while we smiled and laughed a bit awkwardly. The statues on the cathedral looked down stilly. There were two women at this doorway, statues, veiled, turned as though speaking to one another. Somehow the statues on this building seem almost alive, but withdrawn.... We walked on back to the train station. The light fell between the narrow buildings, casting blue shadows.
We stopped at a tourist shop where a coat of armor stood outside the door, and I took silly pictures of the girls with it. Then we got bWe were happy, relaxed, laughing and joking as we swung along together. The serene silence of tack on the train to Paris. The other girls dozed. Back in Paris, we still had plenty of time before we were supposed to meet the others at eight o'clock. Emmaline wanted to find Montmartre and Sacre Coeur, so we set out into the subways to see what we could see. We eventually came up at a stop near Sacre Coeur. Emmaline was busy looking at her map, but Heather and I, glancing around us, were a bit taken aback by what we saw--down the street were signs for bars, dance halls, and other unsavory places, the blare of the 'red light district'. Thankfully, our route lay in roughly the opposite direction. We started up narrow side streets, up a steep hill. On the way we found an odd little Christmas market with a carousel, and a 'headless' accordion player.
At last Emmaline found the steps of Sacre Coeur, and we staggered up them, Heather and Catherine puffing along behind. Flight after flight, straight up, the ornate black iron lampstands marching like grim sentries beside us. At the top we found the basilica of Sacre Coeur: white stone tinted mauve with sunset, its domed towers flashing. From that hill we had a gorgeous view of the city below. Emmaline wanted to go inside since we were there, so we did. No photography allowed inside. We cycled silently around the edge of the building on a carpet laid down to muffle visitors' footsteps. On the great dome above the altar was a gilt mosaic of Christ; on the four pillars around the main dome were sculpted stone angels, beautiful and terrible, with wings outspread. Compared to them, the Byzantine glamor of the rest of the church seemed strangely out-of-place, a forced ostentatious piety. Candles winked on the images and icons. I was glad to get outside again.
We explored around to the side of the basilica, and ducked down a little lane lined with tourist shops, including an Irish pub. (!) We stepped into a couple of the shops, which were well-lit, and crammed with cheap goods--mugs, T-shirts, scarves, hats, posters, flags, statuettes, etc. I did buy a pashmina at one of them, and Catherine and Heather both bought scarves, while Emmaline looked around rather restlessly. By now it was almost dark. Going outside, I discovered that the sky had become a vivid almost Carribean blue, with the moon like a gilt rosette hanging above the glowing towers of Sacre Coeur. Christmas lights flashed and blinked between the buildings. Wandering on, we found ourselves suddenly in a square, the most stereotypical Parisian place we'd seen yet: surrounded by creperies and cafe bars, the square was full of artists and people sitting for portraits and caricatures. We were accosted by several of the artists asking to do our portraits, but it was cold, so we turned them down. I was beginning to be uneasy. Always wary of thieves, and remembering those glaring lights further down the hill, I was eager to be out of this area.
We finally managed to find our way down the hill, but didn't know where the nearest metro stop was. Emmaline stopped at a corner creperie to ask directions, and the man was quite kind, so we all bought crepes. I had a crepe with sugar and lemon juice--hot, oozing, and delicious, the soft pastry all wavy like the edge of a shell. We found our way down into the metro finally and decided to go in search of Christmas markets. On the airplane over, Emmaline had seen Trocadero listed as an area with markets in one of the airline magazines. So we went to Trocadero. We found ourselves in another stylish area (there seems to be no part of Paris in the centre that is not stylish in some way!) and stopped in a bookstore to ask directions. The shop owner didn't know of any Christmas markets, but we lingered in the bookstore for awhile, fascinated by the picture books and the books in French. Emmaline found a copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in French, and we split the cost--I paid for half as her birthday present. It was fun to take a brief break in a safe place and browse over the glossy pages. But then we went back out again.
We made our way to the Champs Elysees via the metro, and stopped in a Quick Burger restaurant for dinner. We were all cold, and Heather doesn't like to eat meat, but we settled for it anyway. Catherine and I both had hot chicken sandwiches, which were good. Then we trailed back out into the cold to meet the girls. We'd settled on meeting them in the long entrance hall to a cinema. Emmaline read the summaries of the movies in French while we waited. Crowds circled past, so many people, so many faces. Lights, cars, signs, shop windows, Christmas lights, voices.... When the other girls arrived, they were eager to shop along the Champs Elysees. So we elected to meet together again at the first Brioche restaurant at nine o'clock. Emmaline, Heather, Catherine, and I wandered for awhile--in and out of galleries and malls, peering into shop windows, glancing at tourist stores, trying to stay warm.
We caught up with Sarah, Charlotte, and Michaela in Naf Naf, an upper-end clothing store. Emmaline and I poked fun of the expensive clothes, but she decided to stay with the other girls. Heather and Catherine wanted to shop at Zara, so I went with them on down. They both found clothes to buy, and then we walked up to the Brioche place. We managed to order food, and sat at a table in a corner, getting warm. We split a brioche pastry man between us, the warm sweet pastry melting in our mouths. Emmaline came and found us. The other girls had gone to buy crepes. We made our way back to the hostel. Emmaline, Michaela, Sarah, and Charlotte sat on the floor, laughing and talking among themselves. Heather and I sat quietly together and chatted--we talked about trees and birds, which Heather also likes, and looked at pictures with Catherine. Then we had our Bible study on Esther and made plans for tomorrow.
We walked on around the cathedral after awhile. At the back we found a garden with a parapet, and then a steep fall, and beyond that a beautiful view of the city of Chartres itself: a fairly large town, it seemed, with some tall buildings and big cranes, a tangle of houses rosy in the slanting afternoon light. We walked around under a series of stone arches, over to the north doorway, where we goofed around, taking pictures of each other. Some workmen were unloading supplies at the side door. One of them came up to us and started to talk to Emmaline. He asked her (apparently) where we were from in America (!), and she said, 'Oklahoma,' the first thing that came to her head, so he started to sing a song about Oklahoma in French, grinning and looking at the four of us, while we smiled and laughed a bit awkwardly. The statues on the cathedral looked down stilly. There were two women at this doorway, statues, veiled, turned as though speaking to one another. Somehow the statues on this building seem almost alive, but withdrawn.... We walked on back to the train station. The light fell between the narrow buildings, casting blue shadows.
We stopped at a tourist shop where a coat of armor stood outside the door, and I took silly pictures of the girls with it. Then we got bWe were happy, relaxed, laughing and joking as we swung along together. The serene silence of tack on the train to Paris. The other girls dozed. Back in Paris, we still had plenty of time before we were supposed to meet the others at eight o'clock. Emmaline wanted to find Montmartre and Sacre Coeur, so we set out into the subways to see what we could see. We eventually came up at a stop near Sacre Coeur. Emmaline was busy looking at her map, but Heather and I, glancing around us, were a bit taken aback by what we saw--down the street were signs for bars, dance halls, and other unsavory places, the blare of the 'red light district'. Thankfully, our route lay in roughly the opposite direction. We started up narrow side streets, up a steep hill. On the way we found an odd little Christmas market with a carousel, and a 'headless' accordion player.
At last Emmaline found the steps of Sacre Coeur, and we staggered up them, Heather and Catherine puffing along behind. Flight after flight, straight up, the ornate black iron lampstands marching like grim sentries beside us. At the top we found the basilica of Sacre Coeur: white stone tinted mauve with sunset, its domed towers flashing. From that hill we had a gorgeous view of the city below. Emmaline wanted to go inside since we were there, so we did. No photography allowed inside. We cycled silently around the edge of the building on a carpet laid down to muffle visitors' footsteps. On the great dome above the altar was a gilt mosaic of Christ; on the four pillars around the main dome were sculpted stone angels, beautiful and terrible, with wings outspread. Compared to them, the Byzantine glamor of the rest of the church seemed strangely out-of-place, a forced ostentatious piety. Candles winked on the images and icons. I was glad to get outside again.
We explored around to the side of the basilica, and ducked down a little lane lined with tourist shops, including an Irish pub. (!) We stepped into a couple of the shops, which were well-lit, and crammed with cheap goods--mugs, T-shirts, scarves, hats, posters, flags, statuettes, etc. I did buy a pashmina at one of them, and Catherine and Heather both bought scarves, while Emmaline looked around rather restlessly. By now it was almost dark. Going outside, I discovered that the sky had become a vivid almost Carribean blue, with the moon like a gilt rosette hanging above the glowing towers of Sacre Coeur. Christmas lights flashed and blinked between the buildings. Wandering on, we found ourselves suddenly in a square, the most stereotypical Parisian place we'd seen yet: surrounded by creperies and cafe bars, the square was full of artists and people sitting for portraits and caricatures. We were accosted by several of the artists asking to do our portraits, but it was cold, so we turned them down. I was beginning to be uneasy. Always wary of thieves, and remembering those glaring lights further down the hill, I was eager to be out of this area.
We finally managed to find our way down the hill, but didn't know where the nearest metro stop was. Emmaline stopped at a corner creperie to ask directions, and the man was quite kind, so we all bought crepes. I had a crepe with sugar and lemon juice--hot, oozing, and delicious, the soft pastry all wavy like the edge of a shell. We found our way down into the metro finally and decided to go in search of Christmas markets. On the airplane over, Emmaline had seen Trocadero listed as an area with markets in one of the airline magazines. So we went to Trocadero. We found ourselves in another stylish area (there seems to be no part of Paris in the centre that is not stylish in some way!) and stopped in a bookstore to ask directions. The shop owner didn't know of any Christmas markets, but we lingered in the bookstore for awhile, fascinated by the picture books and the books in French. Emmaline found a copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in French, and we split the cost--I paid for half as her birthday present. It was fun to take a brief break in a safe place and browse over the glossy pages. But then we went back out again.
We made our way to the Champs Elysees via the metro, and stopped in a Quick Burger restaurant for dinner. We were all cold, and Heather doesn't like to eat meat, but we settled for it anyway. Catherine and I both had hot chicken sandwiches, which were good. Then we trailed back out into the cold to meet the girls. We'd settled on meeting them in the long entrance hall to a cinema. Emmaline read the summaries of the movies in French while we waited. Crowds circled past, so many people, so many faces. Lights, cars, signs, shop windows, Christmas lights, voices.... When the other girls arrived, they were eager to shop along the Champs Elysees. So we elected to meet together again at the first Brioche restaurant at nine o'clock. Emmaline, Heather, Catherine, and I wandered for awhile--in and out of galleries and malls, peering into shop windows, glancing at tourist stores, trying to stay warm.
We caught up with Sarah, Charlotte, and Michaela in Naf Naf, an upper-end clothing store. Emmaline and I poked fun of the expensive clothes, but she decided to stay with the other girls. Heather and Catherine wanted to shop at Zara, so I went with them on down. They both found clothes to buy, and then we walked up to the Brioche place. We managed to order food, and sat at a table in a corner, getting warm. We split a brioche pastry man between us, the warm sweet pastry melting in our mouths. Emmaline came and found us. The other girls had gone to buy crepes. We made our way back to the hostel. Emmaline, Michaela, Sarah, and Charlotte sat on the floor, laughing and talking among themselves. Heather and I sat quietly together and chatted--we talked about trees and birds, which Heather also likes, and looked at pictures with Catherine. Then we had our Bible study on Esther and made plans for tomorrow.
Haha, I'm glad you got to see "your" statues. They look familiar to me but just vaguely. I'm also glad you had those with you who could speak French! One more "glad": I'm glad you've had chances to have Bible studies with your friends.
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